


a coin toss, a game on

by gravinnen



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 21:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18978664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravinnen/pseuds/gravinnen
Summary: “This eggplant is making me its bitch.” Grizz says. “How do you say eggplant in sign language?”





	a coin toss, a game on

The weird thing about, well, everything, is that for the most part, life goes on. The world, whatever version of it they are currently on, keeps turning and the sun, whatever version of it they are currently looking at, keeps rising, keeps setting. Day becomes night becomes day becomes night. Like always. Like it used to. They worry about food and shelter and when they’ll inevitably run out of aspirin but also about what to wear to prom and if they can get away with snoozing for just another ten minutes. It’s not normal, of course it’s not normal, but it’s close, nearly there. The new normal. Not like before, but like now.  
  
They say you get used to everything and New Ham and its inhabitants truly are the living, breathing example. Shame no one else is there to see it.  
  
Add to that that Grizz isn’t a worrier, never was, and you end up with a boy who is perfectly capable of dealing with this. Even the prospect of going through high school having to occasionally make out with a girl, strategically placed somewhere where at least three of his teammates would see was never more than a slightly unsatisfying buzz underneath his skin. A bad grade, an argument with his parents, running out of money before the end of the month, a whole town just like it was before but different. It was fine. All fine. Even this whole situation seems to be mostly fine.  
  
Sometimes, though, _sometimes_ , it hits him. How weird this all is. How nothing like what he had expected, assumed, prepared for. How his future was going to be fine and good and nothing out of the ordinary. College, then, a job he found almost satisfying, two, maybe three boyfriends before settling down for real with a dude who worked in politics, probably. An uneventful coming out to his decidedly liberal parents. The works. The usual. The things he’s seen happen all around him happening to him, this time. How, instead, it’s this. A place they can’t seem to get out of, a jail that’s really someone’s wine cellar, an amateur vegetable patch and a homegrown eggplant that’s not doing at all what Grizz what it wants it to do.  
  
“Stop being fucking annoying.” He tells it sternly, before looking up at Sam who’s sitting on the cold ground a few feet away from him, reading a book that, randomly, seems to be about the healing power of essential oils. Grizz gives his shoulder a little shove, pokes Sam’s side long enough for him to look up.  
  
“This eggplant is making me its bitch.” Grizz says. “How do you say eggplant in sign language?”  
  
Sam puts the book on the ground next to him, makes a gesture like a flower growing out of the ground and tells him, “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to your plants? To make them grow faster and stuff? I don’t know if you know but we’re on a bit of a time crunch here.”  
  
“Sure.” Grizz says, gesturing for Sam to hand him the watering can he’s been lugging around. “How do you say bitch in sign language?”  
  
Sam rolls his eyes, fondly, Grizz likes to think, and picks up the book again. He’s highlighted some parts in a bright yellow and is gnawing on the skin just below how thumb nail and for some reason, that _does_ something to Grizz.  
  
“Don’t worry.” He says. “I’ll play them some classical music later. They’ll love it.”  
  
“Sweet of you. Hope you downloaded some before we went on that field trip.”  
  
That makes Grizz sit back on his heels. He sighs, throws his head back and briefly allows himself to think about how great Spotify was and how he never truly appreciated it enough. “Goddamn.” He says.  
  
Sam nods solemnly, moves his arms until the sleeves of his coat fall over his hands, just the tips of his fingers visible in a way that Grizz finds almost unbearably sweet.  
  
“What are you reading anyway? You’re not going to go all pyramid scheme-y on me, huh? I don’t think we’re quite at that stage of this new life yet. Let’s maybe figure out how to grow a tomato before working on our downline, eh?”  
  
Sam grins and Grizz likes that he got to put it on his face. “I found this massive stash of essential oils in one of the empty houses. Figured I might as well check out if they’re of any use.”   
  
“Right. Because that is our life now.”  
  
“Because that is our life now.” Sam agrees, then gets up slightly and leans forward to brush his lips against Grizz’s. “I’m cold. Wanna go home? Warm up a little?”  
  
Grizz leans into him, trying to discreetly brush the dirt on his hands off on his jeans and maneuver in a slightly more comfortable position so he can hold onto Sam, grab him closer, without having to break the kiss. Sam indulges him, for a while, before saying, “I really am cold.” He bites at Grizz’s bottom lip. “I really do want to warm up a little.”  
  
“Can’t. I feel like if I don’t establish authority over this eggplant now, it will just be a sign for all the other vegetables to rebel too. Fiction mirrors reality, I guess. Or like, vegetable patch mirrors reality, maybe.”  
  
Sam hums, gets up for real now, shoving his book in the pocket of his coat. “I’ll see you later then. Show ‘em who’s boss.”  
  
Grizz salutes, watches Sam walk away, then grabs his phone before Sam has even disappeared from view. _Hate to see you leave_ , he writes. _But love to see you walk away_. He finishes it off with thirteen eggplant emojis and a few waterdrops for good measure, thinks that maybe, being stuck here with just his classmates, never having to flirt with anyone else even if he wanted to, was a blessing in disguise.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
Usually life and his thoughts go back to normal soon enough. Having to figure out how to stay alive through the upcoming winter will do that to a man. But this time it’s different. It’s three days later and even after writing about in the diary he’s trying to keep in a slightly desperate bid to become the new John Muir and bringing it up ever so casually with Allie, Grizz’s thoughts keep going back to sentences that start with _what if_.  
  
What if they never find a way home? What if he never sees his parents again? What if his favorite pair of jeans rip and he’ll never be able to get a new pair ever again? What if never gets to take Sam to the theatre? Or to his favorite book store three towns over? What if Sam gets bored? Of this. Of him. Of them. Of all of it.  
  
Grizz looks at Sam trying to close the curtains. He’s wearing one of Grizz’s hoodies that’s about three times too big and not much else and Grizz gives himself some time to revel in the fact that there’s a half-naked, gorgeous, _gorgeous_ boy walking around his room and he didn’t have to go to college for it. New Ham might suck balls most of the time but this definitely doesn’t.  
  
“What?” Sam says, crawling into bed next to him and pressing his cold as hell right foot against Grizz’s shin.  
  
“Nothing.” Grizz says, pauses. “Just like, how weird all of this is.”  
  
Sam adds his left foot too. “What is?”  
  
“Just this.” Grizz gestures vaguely around his room. “How maybe we deserve more. How you deserve more.”  
  
“I’m confused.” Sam signs and Grizz gets a slight thrill at understanding it, without help, without cheating. Sam scrunches up his nose when he spots Grizz’s smile because he _knows_ and the trill of _that_ , of understanding each other without needing any language at all, is maybe, definitely, even bigger.  
  
“Just like, none of what we’re doing is normal teenage stuff, you know. I want to do normal teenage stuff with you. I want to like, take you out somewhere. Buy you shit.” Grizz says, signing the word _shit_ along with his sentence just because he can. “It’s the capitalist in me. He didn’t die with my innocence, apparently.”  
  
“I don’t want you to buy me shit though.”  
  
“You don’t want me to buy you shit _now_. Like, I’m all shiny and new still. You’re still getting used to my insanely muscled thighs and incredible sense of humor. But give it a solid fifteen years and even the novelty of that wears off. And what then? There’s no restaurants, no cinemas, no place to take a romantic weekend trip to. I can’t even put you on the old Instagram with a cute as hell hashtag on it.” Grizz grabs at Sam’s ankle and squeezes. “There’s just disobedient eggplants. And the vague threat of imminent anarchy always in the back of our minds.”  
  
“This is intense. And sudden.” Sam says, pressing his forehead against Grizz’s shoulder, his nose somewhere near the hem of Grizz’s sleeve and his bare skin. “We’re literally about two turkeys away from a famine and you’re worried about there not being restaurants.”  
  
“And places to take a romantic weekend trip to.”  
  
Sam snorts. “We were in high school. _You_ were in the closet. Where were you gonna take me except a secret spot underneath the bleachers with no chance of anyone spotting us.”  
  
“Excuse me.” Grizz says, feeling slightly guilty at the truth of it all, an awkward buzz unfurling in the pit of his stomach. “I am excellent at picking spots to spend a romantic weekend in. I feel even more confident saying this now because you’ll probably never be able to prove me wrong.”  
  
Sam doesn’t say anything to that, just noses at Grizz’s neck. “You’ll get bored of me.” He mutters, all honesty and earnestness.  
  
“Probably.” Sam says, crawling into Grizz’s lap, clearly with other stuff on his mind.  
  
“Rude.” Grizz signs.  
  
Sam nods, gives Grizz a sweet smile and leans forward to give him a trail of kisses down his chest. “Tell me more about how this will get boring.” He can feel Sam smirk somewhere near his sternum.  
  
Grizz thinks that they should talk about this. That this is something he’s genuinely worried about. That his mom once told him communication is the key to a good relationship. That this can wait, too, probably.  
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
It’s just that he doesn’t want to lose this, too. That he’s already lost so much. They all have. That Sam leaves him with a sense of safety, of hope and a naive kind of giddiness that makes it easier to deal with the fact that there’s a big chance he’s going to have to eat his meals in his high school cafetaria until the end of his days. It’s something to hold onto, something real and he wants to keep it safe, keep it close. He’s tried to bring it up with Luke and the guys but he mostly got blank stares and Jason pretending there was something in his eye like any of that fucking matters anymore. Besides, there’s only so many ways you can talk about your relationship with a guy without mentioning you’re in a relationship with a guy. Allie’s got other things on his mind, of course, and Becca’s not someone he feels comfortable confiding in, yet. She’s Sam’s somehow. She’s a line he doesn't know how to cross yet.  
  
So he keeps going. Tends to his garden, writes in his diary, learns the signs for nightstand and hiking boots, makes out with Sam until the early hours of the morning. Because he was someone who didn’t worry. Who could just shrug things off. Who could wait it out. Except he isn’t. Not anymore. He’s not someone with a house to go home to, or with parents who take care of him, or with a working internet connection. He’s the same and yet he’s not. He doesn’t have an active Netflix account but he does have a boyfriend. Things have changed. He has changed. He wants to change.  
  
“I was serious, you know.” Grizz says, determined to not get distracted by the freckles between Sam’s shoulder blades this time. He walks up to Sam, shoves his hands in the front pocket of Sam’s hoodie. “Earlier.”  
  
Sam leans back against the kitchen counter, quickly puts on the kettle before putting his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, too, holding onto Grizz’s.  
  
“About like, us. You getting bored.” Grizz waits for Sam to say something back but he doesn’t, just waits. “I had a plan, you know. An after high school plan. You probably had a plan. And then this happened. And now we’re stuck here. And this could be it. _Forever_. And like, I want to take a shower with you in a house where there’s no other seven people living too. I want to make you breakfast in bed, except, we live in a place where there’s no eggs anymore. Or chickens. This whole thing just happened and I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me.”  
  
“I get that.”  
  
“I know.” Grizz never doubted that. “And I want to shower with you too, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Sam has the decency to blush just a little.  
  
“ _Shut up_. I’m working through something here.”  
  
“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry. Of course I worry about that too. And of course I had a plan. More than one. I had big plans. But the way I see it is you and me never would have happened if New Ham hadn’t happened. It’s not ideal but this is, almost.”  
  
“Water’s boiling.” Grizz says. Then, “That’s true.”  
  
Sam turns around, gets two cups out of the cupboard. “Thing is, I spent my life preparing for the future. Thinking about how tomorrow I would do this, say that. Except then we ended up in the worst timeline, pretty much. So like, why worry about stuff you can’t plan for if there’s always a chance of you ending up in some kind of parallel universe where the _football players_ are the ones trusted with keeping the peace. Truly something nobody could have planned for.”  
  
“ _Hey_.”  
  
“Hey.” Sam replies, bumping his nose against Grizz’s and handing him his tea.  
  
“True.” Grizz says. “Totally true.”  
  
“I like you, you know. Like, _like_ like you. I like you today, most likely tomorrow, there’s a good chance I’ll still like you next week. What if that’s all we need to plan for now. All we _can_ plan.” A beat, something slotting into place. “Besides, can you imagine breaking up? You can’t even get fatal breakup haircut because there’s no fucking hairdressers in this place.”  
  
Grizz can’t help but laugh. At Sam, at having a boyfriend, at _like_ liking someone, at everything. “A solid reason to not break up.”  
  
“A solid reason to not break up.” Sam hands him his tea, they sit down, make out a little. And nothing’s fine but this is. This is.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a single thing for more than two years and yet here we are. title from never get you right by brandon flowers. also, [I am on tumblr](https://koninginnen.tumblr.com/). hope you enjoyed!


End file.
